


so, another took your place

by Averia



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is So Done, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dimension Travel, Gen, Multiverse, Protective Bruce Wayne, Ric Aftermath, Ric Grayson Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27044158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Averia/pseuds/Averia
Summary: Sequel toclaiming to love me, you turned your backThe Multiverse works in mysterious ways, and sometimes it fulfills the simplest desires.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 37
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Began to write this near immediately after I wrote the first reactionary fic but wasn’t sure if I’d ever put it up. Seems as if I am. Tbh this will probably not make much sense if you haven't read the prequel.
> 
> Also, one small plug-in: Everyone who was disappointed by how Nightwing #74 handled Dick’s return should go read Justice League #54. Just sayin’. :p

The sight won't leave Bruce's mind anytime soon. Seeing Dick cry stings. Especially because Bruce doesn't know why, doesn't know how Dick appeared in the cave like a ghost, like someone that shouldn't have been there. 

Slowly, he closes the dark and heavy door to Dick's room. Mind a mess, his eyebrows draw together.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asks, concerned. Maybe he heard him carry Dick up from the cave.

His mind screams that there is something wrong. Dick can't be in the manor right now. Dick is with Damian on the other side of the world, assisting Batman Inc.

"Dimension rift," leaves his lips, and he knows it's true, knew it the second he vetoed Fear Toxin out. The glitching of Dick's body only proved it. His old Nightwing suit. Then Robin. Nightwing. Batman. A suit that looked like Nightwing and yet seemed so unfamiliar to Bruce.

"We've got an alternative Nightwing on our hands," Bruce speaks on, mechanical even though his heart is bleeding, and he nearly looks back, opens the door again to make sure that Dick is still there.

People think Dick cries often. And, yes, _maybe_ he can let his feelings out in healthier ways than most of them, but Dick _wailed_ into his chest, his pain so apparent that it pierced Bruce's heart in a single blow. Even now, it makes his mouth run dry, and his pulse speed up with fear.

 _What happened?_ Is what he wants to know and yet couldn't ask, not while Dick was so, so hurt. 

He knows well that he hasn't always dealt with Dick's pain the right way if only because he knew Dick would be strong enough, would react to anger better than to kindness. But he has always looked out for him, never left him to cry alone if he could be there.

"Harmless, I presume?"

Bruce's lips twitch into a smile. "As harmless as Nightwing can be."

"Then I recommend that you return, or shall I say, finally go to bed. I will make sure to cancel your morning appointments. At least I suspect you would rather deal with him as soon as possible?"

Bruce nods, yet his gaze returns to the door. The glitching comes back to his mind. Will Dick still be with them in a few hours? Is their Dick still here, or has he been pulled into this Dick's universe?

Bruce shakes his head. It's unlikely. This Dick wouldn't have appeared in the cave if there had been an exchange, and if Dick had disappeared, Damian would have already sent out an emergency alert.

"Sleep, Master Bruce," Alfred reminds, and reluctantly Bruce moves.

Dick will still be there tomorrow. He has to believe that because if he doesn't, he won't get a wink of sleep. The crying isn't a mystery he can leave unsolved.

In the end, he doesn't sleep a second, tosses and turns, and still feels the wetness of Dick's tears against his hands and collarbone. The shower he takes barely clears his mind. Four hours after carrying him to his room, he stands in front of Dick's door again, steps in after a sharp knock, and comes face to face with wide, blue eyes.

"I," Dick says, breath hitching the same way it did down in the cave, and Bruce's hands ball to fists. _Who? Who hurt him?_

Dick's gaze flickers down. His expression falls.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how I," Dick's lips twitch helplessly, embarrassment all his expression conveys. "I must have ended up sleepwalking. I should get going. It was nice to see you again so soon, Bruce."

Bruce stops him before Dick can usher past him, his grip strong but not harsh, and yet, there is fear, honest to god fear in Dick's eyes. 

Bruce lets go as if burned, staring at Dick with his mouth agape.

"Dick?" he asks, just as realization starts to cross Dick's face.

"Oh," Dick mumbles, something like hope building and falling on his face. "Oh, it wasn't just a dream."

Bruce takes a step towards him, reaches out again just to make sure he is real. Dick doesn't stop him this time, looks on curiously. This Dick is younger than his, maybe mid-twenties, but not above thirty yet.

He shouldn't be that sad.

"You must have fallen through a rift," Bruce says, keeps his voice even, and his hand on his shoulder. Beneath his grasp, Dick slowly relaxes.

"Kinda makes sense, I guess," Dick grins, pretending, and it's not the first time he ever has in front of Bruce. Their relationship has been rocky time and time again, sometimes more, sometimes less, but Bruce has held him in his arms as he screamed and choked on tears countless times. Dick shouldn't be trying to pretend right now. Not after what Bruce has already seen.

"I've got all these memories in my head," Dick stops, licks his lips, nodding to himself. "Whatever, you don't want to know. That's something I can handle on my own."

The last part sounds like words Dick has been told. Bruce always wants to know, but he would have accepted Dick's choice if a dimension rift hadn't decided to literally dispose of this Dick, crying, in front of him.

"We can talk about that over breakfast. Do earl grey and cucumber sandwiches sound good?"

Dick's eyes light up, and it shouldn't be a painful sight. Bruce cups his neck, can't help himself, guides him a few steps as if Dick might just run away if he doesn't. Then he pulls his hand away again.

"Maybe a bit of cereal too."

Dick chuckles beside him, glances up at him with a shrewd look.

"Don't pretend as if you have anything but wholegrain cereal with raisins in the kitchen."

Bruce hums. "You might be surprised," he says, and Dick sends him another smile, this one small but more genuine. Bruce tries to ignore the way Dick drinks him in as if he is desperate to commit him... _this version of him_ to memory.

Dick comes to a halt the second they step into the kitchen, his feet barely across the threshold. His wide stare is directed at Alfred, his lips parted, then he moves. It plays out as if in slow-motion. Everything inside Bruce tenses. Did he miscalculate? Was it all a nefarious ploy? Is this not a Dick from another universe after all?

The plate doesn't clatter to the ground, courtesy of Dick. Alfred looks flabbergasted by the surprise hug, mouth opening and closing like a fish's. It's not often Alfred loses his composure. The sight would make Bruce laugh if it weren't so concerning.

"Master Richard," Alfred chides a little exasperated, but his hand rests between Dick's shoulder blades, tentatively holding him close. Dick pulls back, head a little ducked, giving the plate back to Alfred.

"Sorry, I just got," Dick shrugs, gaze twitching away, "Overwhelmed."

Alfred's concerned brown eyes meet his, and Bruce shakes his head.

"Well, sometimes that happens in your line of work."

Dick snorts. "You could say that."

The silence lingers for a moment, Dick looking chided and twitchy. 

Bruce hates it.

"What kind of cereal do we have, Alfred?"

Alfred stares at him, dumbfounded. "Cereal, Master Bruce?"

Dick snorts, rubbing his neck. "It's ok. I can have breakfast without cereal, you know?"

"Yes, but you don't have to."

Dick blinks up at him - it reminds Bruce strangely of the way Dick looked at him mere days after his parents fell -, then a huff crosses his lips.

"Yeah. Ok. Thank you. Bruce."

Bruce nods, unable to keep the frown off his face. "You're welcome."

Dick sends him another smile, still more tentative than Bruce is used to. He steps past him into the kitchen, opens the cupboard his Dick opened the last time he was here. Bruce finds the cereal hidden behind the noodles.

Dick stares at the package of _100% Batman_ Bruce hands to him as if he just gave him the holy grail. "My favorite cereal? Am I living here again?" The hands tighten around the package. "Did I never leave?"

"You’re living in the city apartment, but you visit a lot," Bruce opts to say, then adds, as they walk towards the breakfast room, Alfred ushering them out of the kitchen: "You're currently Batman. With me."

Dick nods, thinking. "That already happened, but... we weren't... we didn't work together for very long."

Bruce pretends that he doesn't hear the, _I think_.

"I see," he replies, watching Dick fill the bowl with tiny dark and puffy bats. _One hundred percent cocoa_ , Dick had told him so long ago. _My second favorite. Nothing can beat the blueberry in the Superman version._ How did he miss the teasing glint in his eyes that betrayed the lie?

"How old are you right now? You seem younger to me." 

"I...," Dick bites his lip. The spoon trembles in his grip for barely a second. "I think I'm... supposed to be 27?"

Bruce waits a moment. "But?"

"I was... I was with... uh," Dick looks away, "I was with Spyral when I was twenty-one. I don't think... It doesn't feel that long but... I guess that's why they have forgotten me, right?" 

Dick grins as if it doesn't hurt, and Bruce doesn't ask who he means, doesn't ask how the hell Dick got involved with an organization that to Bruce's knowledge doesn't even exist anymore.

Breakfast ends up being a quiet affair. Alfred takes the conversation into his capable hands, asks about the last Gotham Knights scores, and where Dick is living. They don't tell him what happened to Blüdhaven in their universe once they hear the city still exists.

"I know you want to ask," Dick tells him in the cave as he sits in the seat of the multiverse searcher, letting Bruce attach the electrons to his temples and wrists and chest.

"What happened?"

"I was," Dick's nostrils flare as he breaths through, "I lost my memories."

"How?"

Dick swallows. "Head wound."

Bruce's gaze draws to the side where he can see the slight unevenness of his hair.

"Lost them for how long?"

"Half a year," Dick says with all of the conviction of someone who has been told that fact. "It felt longer." Dick breaths through, unsurely looking up at him. "And I'm not sure if they are truly back."

"Dick," Bruce begins but stops when Dick speaks on.

"He said he watched over me... but I don't think he did. I wasn't... I wasn't right enough."

Bruce swallows, slowly reaching out, caressing through his hair, feeling the scar. The blue eyes glimmer.

"I wanted him to hug me. Do you think that brought me here? My desire for one simple stupid embrace?"

Bruce slowly steps nearer, gathers him into his arms again, and Dick holds onto him as if he thinks this might already be the end. The machine won't send him back just like that, though. Bruce won't either. Especially not now that he sees and feels Dick's pain.

"None of them hugged me," Dick whispers, pressing his face into Bruce's chest, "And Damian wasn't there. And Bea just… I don’t know where she is.”

Bruce doesn’t know who Bea is, but he knows well how much Damian means to Dick. Deep down, Bruce doesn't want to send him back, but he knows he has to. Of course, they could wait it out. See how long the powers that be let him stay, but Bruce wants Dick to know this was real, wants to send him back controlled so his fragile psyche doesn't deny the fact that people give him affection. Maybe Bea, then, deserves to have him back far more than any bats currently do.

"Did you take Robin away from me here too?"

It's not a question Bruce expects. Maybe he should have.

He considers lying for no more than a second. Dick would know or figure it out, whatever is worse. Bruce doesn't want to be like the Bruce that left this Dick to fend for himself even though he fears he already is. 

"Yes."

"Oh," Dick breaths out, pulling slightly back but not letting go, simply staring at the Bat symbol on Bruce's chest. It feels even heavier than it usually does. Bruce doesn’t know how his Dick bears the weight so well, so effortlessly.

"I didn't want you to get hurt anymore," Bruce speaks on, words he has never been courageous enough to say before. "I... I saw you already drifting away and couldn't handle it."

Dick draws back with a wry smile, fingers easing their grip. "Yeah. I know."

Doesn’t Dick always? Still, Bruce wants to say more, but there is no point. The mistake was made too long ago, and this Dick doesn't need to hear more to make it hurt less. Not from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages are obviously a mess in comics, but I thought it’s interesting that Dick was 21 while he was with Spyral then is supposed to be mid-20s before Ric happens, while his driver’s license claims he was born in 1991. It's as if comics don't know how not to make year claims.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for the "ten shrinks" Bruce claims to have in Superman/Batman (2008) Annual #2.

Dick steps out of the portal, quiet and tense. 

Bruce almost expects to see that another shift has occurred, expects to feel a small, gloved hand slip into his. Instead, the unfamiliar Nightwing suit greets him as Dick walks past him, facing the city he calls his home. 

The portal has opened at the docks, and he doesn't miss how Dick's gaze sticks to one of the sheds, a frown building as he studies the glimmering water. Most of the streetlamps are working and the moon shines brightly. It's a nice night. For Blüdhaven anyway, and Bruce regrets... so much.

"What is it?" he asks because he has to. This Dick won't betray anything if he doesn't, and it hurts, feels like a rusty nail pushing into his chest every time he is reminded, and he wonders if his silence over the years has forced his _and_ this Dick to feel the same grief.

"Nothing," is the mumbled reply, Dick stepping away, but then he hesitates when Bruce doesn't move. The gloved hands link behind the small of Dick's back, fingers curling in uncertainty.

"I think I nearly drowned there," Dick admits, his lips twitch up. "The squid left me with all these pointed blotches, I..."

The laugh disappears as fast as it came, a swallow making Dick's Adam's apple pop. The wind crossing the ocean feels cool as it pulls on their costumes, cape rising lightly off the street.

"I can imagine that irritated you quite a bit," Bruce finds himself saying, a hint of amusement swings in his voice. _Were you alright?_ he wonders. _Was there no water in your lungs? Did you tell anyone? Do you know how worried I still am every time you tell me about a narrow escape? A near-death?_

"It... did," Dick allows, head slightly tilted. An exhale leaves him. Chest sinking visibly. "This is goodbye, then?"

It should be. He shouldn't intervene... but he has always wanted to play the evil counterpart and there is no time like the present. No better reason to.

"I'm sure your Batman has already been alerted of the dimension rift. He'll come."

Dick huffs, shaking his head. "This is Blüdhaven."

"He'll come," Bruce repeats firmly, not moving. If this Bruce truly cares so little for Nightwing that he won't, Bruce will come to him. The thought alone forms a heated, tight ball of lead in his chest, fingers itching to curl into fists.

"Alright. Fine, but I don't think just waiting here will be a good idea, B," Dick says.

"You're right. We aren't," he replies, "You are going to Bea."

"I... am...," Dick stares, flabbergasted, "Uhm... What?"

"You were pulled from one fight into another. I'm sure she wants to talk to you."

The white lenses betray nothing, but the stance is enough for Bruce to know Dick averted his gaze. "I'm not," Dick whispers.

"Nightwing."

Dick makes a face. "Can you stop saying my name like that?"

"Like what?"

Dick stays quiet for a while, then breaths through, relaxing. "Nothing. I just,” his lips press together, his face tilts away. “ _Thank you_."

Bruce has crossed the distance between them before he even has time to take Dick's expression in. It has gotten so easy to hug him in the past days, Bruce doesn't know why he ever stopped. Dick throws his arms around him without any hesitation, breathing in deeply and then exhaling in one long push. With Nightwing half-hidden in his embrace, Bruce thinks it unfair that he has to let him return to a universe that does its best not to care for him.

"I'm proud of you," Bruce whispers, brushing through the dark locks. "I want you to be happy, Dick. It's all I've ever wanted. Speak to Bea. She means a lot to you, I can see that, and from what you have told me, you mean a lot to her as well. You'll heal. You don't have to remain in the shadows. The people that love you, will be there for you. They will understand."

Dick's arms tighten, the pressure of fingertips even noticeable despite the armor he wears. Then Dick steps back, lips curling with an amused smile, locks plastered to his forehead by the hug. 

_Young._ This Dick is so young.

"Good to know that you're learning how to have a conversation at your old age."

Bruce swipes at him, and Dick laughs, evading his attack with a quick step back.

"I'll miss you," the words rush out of Dick's mouth through the night, and Bruce can only say: "Go."

Dick understands. In a way, Bruce thought only his Dick and Alfred would ever understand, but Dick gives a playful salute, and then he is gone, zip line disappearing behind a building. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have been worried. Dick hates long goodbyes.

Bruce hopes he is right. Hopes that people are waiting for him that will love him even here. Hopes that Dick can start loving himself again.

"Miss you?" It's a growl if Bruce has ever heard one, and his gaze drops to the shadows, stance relaxed as he watches Batman emerge out of the shadows of a nearby valley. There is an arrogance to the way the Bat holds himself that Bruce hopes he lost years ago.

A grin slithers onto his lips, one conjured by the way Nightwing smiles and Robin smiled beside him in pixie boots and a leotard Bruce despaired over.

"You don't deserve him." He means it. If he could, if he thought that it would be for the best, he would have kept this Dick in his own universe, consequences be damned. "But you know that, don't you?"

"What do you want?" Batman asks, trying to circle him, trying to back him into the portal. Bruce doesn't budge.

"Many of the things you do," Bruce answers. "Where is Robin?"

A hand balls into a fist. There is no answer, and Bruce inclines his head.

"After everything Nightwing told me. It's hardly surprising that you don't know."

Maybe it's that Dick told him. Maybe it's the not knowing that has always eaten away at every version of himself. Maybe it's because he is a Batman that stands closer to Nightwing than this one.

Whatever it is, Batman attacks and their fight is over in seconds. This Bruce is younger, a more agile in a way Bruce will never be again, not after Bane and Bane _and Bane_ , but he isn't that old yet, and he has lived far longer, experienced much more. 

He slams Batman down, kicks him away. It's strangely satisfying to beat himself up. Maybe because he knows he has caused much of the same pain as this Bruce has. Not to the same extent but enough.

It's cathartic to let the rusting anger out, to feel the slickness of his own blood. And, standing over Batman, knee, and hand pining a version of himself down, Bruce thinks it is nothing but glorious.

"I could have everything you do," he says, and at that moment the words feel like the truth. An epiphany. Cold and harsh, yet warm. They are the words of a man who always gets what he wants no matter how, instead of the man he is, the one who has lost too much. "Don't make me take it." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is trying. I'm trying too. Quarantine life has kinda worn me down. It took quite some time to finally polish this. I hope you enjoy it. :)

"You wanted to see me?"

Bruce turns away from the report he is writing, chair swiveling as he stands. A smile adorns Dick's lips. His hair is mused from the cowl, the cape a dark shadow over his shoulders, and Bruce's gaze is drawn towards the black shape of the bat proudly displayed on Dick's chest.

He never wanted him to wear the cowl, and yet Dick has been better for Gotham than anyone has ever been.

Bruce always knew he would be even when he did not wish the burden upon him.

"Are you alright? Alfred said it’s not an emergency, but…?"

His knuckles still throb. Hitting himself isn't the same as hitting metahumans and aliens, but it still left his skin scraped despite the gauntlets. His rage didn’t let him think. Dick shifts. Bruce can't keep his body from tensing and his head from snapping up. 

The fearful reaction makes Dick frown, gaze searching as he calmly steps closer, hands raised and palms showing, one hand stretched out a little as if Bruce is a skittish animal. The worry edged into Dick's face leaves him frozen, and his gaze averts to the far cave walls when the hand touches his shoulder, fingers curling around the armor he is still wearing. A shadow hushes over Dick's face that is gone too fast for him to decipher, but Bruce can guess what it is. The rusty nail. The same one he feels trilling into his chest.

It was easy between them. Once. Years ago, and sometimes in between.

"I failed you, didn't I?" he whispers, feels the cutting edges of his confession right where a bat sits mirrored on his chest. "Every step of the way."

Dick stares at him, blue eyes wide, and mouth open in disbelieve, hand more hovering than touching his shoulder now. It seems fitting. It has been like this between them for so long. Worry, fear, regret, stealing their way between them to sully what should be good.

Breathing hurts, all the things he has never managed to say, and which even now won't fall from his stubborn lips.

"Hey! No.  _ Bruce. _ "

His other shoulder is grasped too. Dick looks almost frantic, and Bruce can’t breathe.

"It's alright," Dick says, lips pressed together, and mouth tensely narrowed in a familiar show of determination.

Bruce wants so desperately for the words to come but no sound escapes, not when confronted with Dick's sureness, his trust. The hands slip down his back, careful as Dick pulls him closer, and Bruce? Bruce doesn't know why he deserves the affection that Dick has  _ always, always _ shown him, but he hugs back, claws into Dick in all the ways he did not dare to hold onto the younger counterpart that he sent home hours ago.

Dick freezes, so unlike the other Dick that embraced his affection, was thankful for his care. It hurts. Hurts more than Bruce will ever know how to describe because it confirms what he feared. He wasn’t better than the other Bruce (but he  _ can _ be).

"I'm sorry," he whispers. Eyes squeezed shut he sees the pain the other Dick showed him again, sees an endless stream of tears slip down bronze cheeks as Dick appeared in the cave, glitching in and out of existence. "I'm so sorry." 

Dick's hands lightly touch his arms, then slide to his back once more to hold him closer as if he is not the one clinging onto Dick.

"You've never disappointed me, not once," Dick whispers gently.

"Don't," Bruce says, breath hitching. "You don't have to lie to me."

"Bruce," Dick says, pulling away just a little. It’s hard to let him. Bruce has trouble looking into his eyes. Behind the curtain of unshed tears, Bruce is reminded of a simpler time. "You didn't."

A fond smile plays along Dick's lips. Fingers brush stray hairs from his forehead. It makes Bruce feel small, yet secure, like a child.

"You are absolutely infuriating. And your actions have hurt me in the past, but I forgave you years ago. There is nothing to forgive now."

"I don't deserve--"

"I don't care," Dick replies, voice echoing, waking the bats, and Bruce bites his tongue. "I forgave you. I will forgive you no matter what happens. And if you're ready to change, I'll be there to help. Always."

Dick’s frown turns deeper. “I thought you knew that.”

“I do,” Bruce says practically squeezing the word from his lung. "But you don't have to stay by my side. You don't have to stay  _ here. _ "

"But I want to," Dick replies as if it has ever been that easy, and maybe it is. Maybe it can be again after all the years of struggling. His hands tighten around Dick’s shoulders, his gaze sticks to the dark shadow of the bat.

"I want," I don't want to be  _ that _ Bruce, "I want to make things right.”

Bruce doesn't dare look or move, barely even breathes.

"Ok," Dick whispers, Kevlar brushing against his cheek as Dick forces his gaze up with a sure hand. "How about... you tell me why you feel so guilty right now."

Guilt claws into his heart. His expression almost falters. It took another Dick to make him realize how he treated his Dick. It took wanting to one-up himself for him to want to change. Bruce ignores his reasoning.

"I don't want to lose the family I have," he says.

Dr. Hurt's bullet left no scar, but if he had not returned that day, would his Dick have been in a coma? Would he have made the same mistakes the other Bruce made?

"I want you to be happy, Dick."


End file.
